Welcoming the Beast Within
by Verthril
Summary: AU: Sent to vet a pair of brothers at the behest of a client, the reclusive philanthropist Charles Xavier, Rogue finds herself and her protege on a collision course with two feral half-brothers that will awaken something within herself that excites and scares her, the dark desires of her own heart.
1. Chapter 1

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"If anyone asks, you're my kid sister."

"...I guess that makes me adopted?"

"And we didn't go tellin' ya till ya asked."

"So that also makes me kinda slow, huh?"

"Hey, I didn't go sayin' nothin'."

Getting a straight up dose of stink eye from her favourite little pain in the ass, Rogue ruffled Jubilee's hair. The girl was just another orphan turned runaway, something that made her a kindred spirit, albeit one with a questionable fashion sense. Having lived that life herself, Rogue didn't want to see the girl learning all the same, hard lessons that the streets had to teach.

"Man, there are dive bars and then there's this joint. Ten bucks says road kill's on the menu."

Some preconceptions about Canada aside, Rogue had to admit that they were damned far into the boonies when the next stop of note was Alaska by the way of the Yukon. She'd been to her share of truck stops, but this was the first one that advertised cage fighting as the Friday night attraction, well, that and a sign telling about fresh moose burgers.

"How about I just buy ya the night's special and a shake to wash it on down with?"

In her time with Jubilee, she'd learned that the girl could be adventurous when it came to eating out. Well, just so long as there were no hard feelings about a spit take if she didn't like it.

"Onion rings if they got them?" asked Jubilee.

"Onion rings if they got 'em."

Shaking on it, that was ten bucks better put towards the dinner she already owed the girl. Truth be told, she could use a bite to eat herself. Right along with something to wash it down with, and just maybe a Jack and Coke for dessert. That would have to wait considering she was on the clock, what with her on again off again benefactor having called in about a job that would see her and Jubilee living it easy for the next few months. All they had to do was track down a couple o' pings from Chuck's big ol' psychic _Etch A Sketch_ as Jubes called it.

"So, it's a dude, like...your age? Early twenties? And a guy that's kinda my age?"

"A couple o' brothers, or that's what the ol' Professor told me at least. Logan's the name o' the younger bro, and he's sixteen from what Chuck told me."

"Cool, just a year older than me. I hope he's cute."

"Jubes, we're here on business," huffed Rogue, _damn teens and their hormones_.

"What? Business can't be cute?"

"Can it, ya smart ass. Business and cute are the kind o' mess we don't talk about anymore."

"So exnay on any talking about Remy, eh?"

"Brat."

Jubilee did smug right, cheeky without the kind of shit eating grin that begged for a kick to the ol' caboose.

"Whoa..."

Whoa indeed, the Laughlin City truck stop sure as hell was a rowdy joint, that or the night's attraction of cage fighting had spilled out into the crowd. It was dark, crowded, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Jubilee already checking out a few likely marks. There was that damned Swamp Rat's bad influence coming through again in spades...

"No." Rogue snapped, snatching Jubilee by her painfully bright yellow hoodie before she could disappear into the crowd.

"Gosh, I was just looking. Like I'd wanna get caught picking pockets here, I'd probably get shanked or shot. Heck, maybe both at once." Jubilee grumbled as she shirked off Rogue's grip with a dismissive shrug.

"Here, go get somethin' to eat up at the bar, and don't go sneakin' off outta sight without catching my eye first, ya hear?" Giving the girl a twenty, she didn't expect any change.

"Yes, Mom..."

Rolling her eyes, Rogue headed off out into the crowd. Already she felt the eyes on her that bespoke of all the kind of unwanted attention a pretty gal could draw at a joint like this. Of the regulars among the fairer sex, they sported hiked up thongs riding high above tight blue jeans and tiny tees that didn't leave much to the imagination. For herself? Well, let them think she was a might bit on the shy side, having a damn good reason for not showing anywhere near the skin that some of these gals were.

 _Look, but don't touch_. That wasn't her just whistling Dixie either. Heck, it'd become a bit of an inside joke between her and Jubes to the point that the little brat had picked up a bumper sticker that advertised it on the back of their beat up ol' Ford Bronco. Then there was the other one, _'If you're gonna ride my ass at least pull my hair!'_ , something Lee had gone and bought for the back window that had all the rowdy boys honking as they passed by.

All that was forgotten as she saw him, the older brother without a doubt. He'd been just a figment in her mind until she locked eyes with him. The Professor had called alright, albeit telepathically, to give her a heads up about the two he wanted her to vet for him. That meant they were dangerous, not that it scared her none. Checking out the current fella calling himself the King of the Cage, his name was a whisper in her ear, Victor, and damn if he wasn't living up to his namesake.

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Her scent came with a cold blast of arctic air that drew his eyes to the door. Losing her in the crowd, a stubborn bead of sweat blinded him for all of the blink of an eye. Vision cleared, the pain of a cheap shot reminded him where his attention was supposed to be, right on the sorry sack of shit he owed an ass kicking. Seeing the smug little prick smirking, Victor let the imminent promise of violence fill his eyes to wipe away at the punk's shit eating grin.

"My turn."

Searching his every hungry breath for that tantalizing fragrance that still teased him, whoever she was, she drawing ever closer. That meant playtime was over, enjoying the old look he'd seen countless times fill the other man's eyes, a look of fear mixed with the awful realization that he'd never had a chance right from the get go. Like every other challenger before him, he'd been played with just to pad the odds and give the crowd a show. The crack of knuckles hammering bone erupted with a spray of blood and spat teeth. And while the challenger didn't look to have a glass jaw, it sure as hell broke just as easily.

"The winner!" Roared the announcer, his voice electric with the lightning whose thunder came with the cheering of the crowd.

Pounding back a beer in one thirsty guzzle to celebrate his victory, Victor saw her at last, her scent so sweet and near he couldn't keep his lusty growl at bay. She wasn't like any of the ladies he knew that threw themselves at him hoping for a good rutting that would leave them sore, but satisfied come the morning. Hell, she wasn't even checking him out. No, she was damned well sizing him up, and that got him hard as he met her intense scrutiny full on.

What she did next, though, stole away his very breath to leave him raggedly searching for it through his flared nostrils. Like every other challenger before, a wad of cash was thrown down before she stepped into the cage. Yet unlike any before her, Victor saw something dangerous in her, something he wanted to see let loose. For the first time in a long time he felt like he had himself a real fight on his hands.

His smile only grew as she cast off her hooded jacket, stripping right down to just jeans and a sports bra that told no lies, that without a doubt he wasn't the only one looking forward to something more than just the fight to come. Counting out the seconds by the beating of his heart hammering away in his ears, the ringing of the bell waited of in some distant future that made an eternity out of the slow seconds. With an anticipation the likes he'd never known before, his eyes stayed locked on hers.

And somewhere in the routine of the fight being announced he heard her name at last, _Rogue_. Grinning with a flash of feral fangs, it suited her and she knew it.

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"Twenty bucks on Rogue."

If there was one thing Logan knew, it was the confidence of betting on a sure thing. Wondering just who his brother was up against, long was the line of truckers and loggers looking to blow off some steam in the cage. Damn if he didn't nearly choked on his Coke though, as he saw some dame stripping down to her bra. Modest she sure as hell wasn't, completely ignoring all the eyes on her except for one man, those of his big brother, Vic.

Having a better look at the girlie who'd just handed off her lunch money to the local bookie, she was petite, Asian, and showed a lot more interest in watching the cook sear up her burger than in the fight she'd just bet on. Dressed in black denim cutoffs, a yellow hoodie, and tights that had seen better days, she stood out in the landscape of blue jeans, flannel, and the kind of safety orange sweatshirts a man wore to work where a chainsaw was just another of the tools of his trade.

"If she thinks Vic will go easy on her because she's a woman, then I got news for the both of ya."

Now as much as he was used to having ladies looking interested in him, they usually were the sort of women who took solace in the age of consent in these here parts being the same as it took for a kid to learn to drive. They never had been the least bit shy about it either, so neither was he. But something about the way girlie here was staring at him put all their hungry, lusty looks to shame. It damned near made him blush, and then she started sucking on the straw of her vanilla shake...

"How about this? When Rogue wins, you cover my bill?" Licking her lips, girlie looked at him from overtop of her ugly ass pink truck stop shades.

"Why do I think ya just went and spent yer last twenty bucks on that bet?"

Grinning at him with all the smugness of a dame who knew she'd get her way no matter what, girlie went back to suckling on her straw with the kind of big doe eyes that weren't doin' him no favours. Feeling his jeans getting uncomfortably tight, Logan sure as heck wasn't gonna go losing out in a game o' chicken with some frail, not with his big bro's reputation on the line.

"Looks to me like yer all in and tryin' to bluff yer way through. So I'm gonna call, but I need to know what yer gonna do for me once ya lose?"

Considering his question, girlie checked him out once more as if really noticing, "I got a spare set of keys to a truck with a big back seat. Ya know, somewhere you and me can get to know each other a little better, if ya know what I mean, right?"

Well shit, it wasn't like he wasn't interested in finding out what was hiding behind that hoodie of hers. Between her tights and those cutoffs of hers, though, it was a bet worth the night's special and a vanilla shake to find out.

"Deal."

Him and girlie could have been the only ones in the bar watching the fight at that point, because they both had the only thing they cared about on the line, the reputation o' someone fighting in the cage. That and a chance at little foolin' around.

"What's yer name?"

"Jubilee, you?"

"Name's Logan."

That was an introduction she sure wasn't going to soon go forgetting, being the best at what he did. Just like his big ol' bro taught him.

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Toying with the little Hellcat, damn if she didn't come back stronger and faster every time he left her spitting blood at the mat. Catching an inkling of her trick, Victor found himself wanting to thrown down until one of them came out on top, and fuck if he didn't care who it was at that point.

"Yer a feral."

"Tonight I am, just s'long as I stay in knife fighting range."

The blood that stained her teeth had him longing for a harsh kiss, to yank her hair between his knuckles and feel her hot breath against his bared throat. Her every cut faded before his eyes, her every bruise vanishing even quicker. Fatigue dogged him, but the beast growling deep in his belly lent him a renewed strength to lash out with a punch that bled her with a pained grunt.

"You ain't afraid to get hurt, are ya? I like that."

Spitting crimson, she licked clean her lips to glare up at him with her tempting, emerald eyes. "Hurtin' is something I know a lot about, hun. Can't say I ain't ever met a man yet that wouldn't be damned near dead by now. Yet here you are, still standing tall and suckin' breath."

He could sure as fuck could tell a lie with just a sniff, and lying she wasn't. No, there was just the stink of an old shame she couldn't shake. Beneath it lay an anger he knew too well, a rage that came from never meaning to be born the way he was. Jimmy stuck of it from time to time, mostly when his temper got the better of him to pop claws and go knuckle deep.

Whatever she was, she could have fooled him plenty with her mountain cat eyes that stalked every twitch and flex of his muscles, eyes sharp and keen to find an opening at the tender meat of his belly. No doubt about it, she was just another freak like him and his baby brother.

Lookin' for the boy out in the crowd, he saw another fight of wills taking place. Cracking a grin, it was starting to look like him and Jimmy were getting played, it was right there in the feral emerald eyes that met his as he returned to the fight at hand.

"I ain't gonna take it easy on ya, just so ya know."

"Aw shucks! You say that like yer the one that's gonna be walkin' on outta this here cage under his own power? Sugah, I'm gonna be dragging ya out on that fine ass o' yers by the time I'm done with you."

A flash of something dangerous and hungry in her eyes was the only warning he had for what was coming. Blows he knew intimately peppered him hard and fast, the reason being they were his own damn moves. Letting instinct guide him, it was like scrapping with ol' Jimmy to try and teach the runt how to fight. Ignoring the searing pain that greedily clawed at his strength, he latched onto her throat with his claws digging deep into her sweet meat. Hauling her up close and personal, a seething hiss came through her clenched teeth to warn that she was far from subdued.

Howling in pain at the feel of her teeth biting at his bare chest, she made him regret his height advantage with the last blow, butting her head hard enough against his chin to make him have a good hard chew of his own damn tongue.

Stumbling back a step as the red took him, Victor saw nothing frail or weak in this dame that stood across from him licking clean her lips of the blood she'd made him bleed. _Mate_ , roared the beast beating deep within his breast, tugging and pulling against every inch of the scarce self control he could muster that kept it chained up.

Captivated by her every breath that had her chest heave and swell against the fabric of her sweat drenched sports bra, the fight with his beast was one he was glad to throw in the towel for. Letting it loose of its chain, he lunged for her and wasn't disappointed to see Rogue shadow him once more. The crowd roared as they crashed against another, overtaken by the cries of pain they wailed together as claws slashed at flesh and dug for purchase in meat, muscle, and sinew.

The standing bets didn't matter worth shit anymore, nor did his pride or even reason. Him and this mountain cat were just animals out to assert their dominance over the other, out to drag the loser off for a good fucking once the fight had been knocked outta whoever that might end up being. But damn if that wasn't gonna be a while at the rate their every cut, gash, and wrenched limb healed, nearly faster than they could inflict it.

For the flagging of his strength he'd felt earlier, he found a renewed wind in her rolling growl that was too close to a throaty purr to do him any good. The fight was on and in earnest, everything else before just them pussyfooting around to size the other up.

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"What can you do? I asked you first! Would you just shut up for a minute?!"

Echoing each other for longer than it was fun, Jubilee glared at Logan in the silence that spoke of a momentary truce. Things in the cage were getting outta hand, like, _no one bled that much without having a fucking wound to show for it_ kind of out of hand. They, as in the big brother and Roguey, were made. And if there was one thing Jubilee knew about getting made, straight up lynch mob mentality wasn't gonna be that far behind.

"I can heal, and I got claws." Logan explained, complete with a show of more inches of bone between his knuckles than Jubilee had colour in her face for, finding herself glad she hadn't tried that moose burger yet.

"I'm guessing he can heal too, cuz like, no one gets that handsy with Rogue for that long without having a death wish."

"Whaddya mean?"

Rolling her eyes, if there was one thing she hated it was trying to explain how Rogue's power worked. Mostly because the best she could do on the spot was to throw around words like suck, leech, and occasionally...vampire. Not that Rogue was any of those things, no, it just got the point across pronto, _Do Not Touch_!

"Wait a minute, back up, how the heck did you figure I could do something?" asked Jubilee.

"Ya both stink o' each other. So, seein' as she's holdin' her own with Vic, I figured ya weren't no frail yerself."

"Okay, first off? You call me a frail again and I'm so gonna Paf you right in your face! Secondly, you're gonna wanna cover your eyes, and maybe your ears if you can, cuz I still need to Paf someone."

"You wanna tell me just what the fuck a Paf is, and just who the fuck yer plannin' on doin' it to?"

"Duh? Roguey and your bro! You think a hose is gonna get those two off of each other? Cha right! By the way, I'm gonna be hiding behind you after I do all this, as I sure as fuck don't heal like you guys!"

"Whatever, babe. Just tell me when I should..."

 _Paf!_

"Ya goddamn crazy frail! I told ya to..."

 _Paf!_

"And I told you not to call me a frail! Whoa, whaddya know? Canadian rednecks look a lot like the ones we got back home. Huh, they even got guns...who knew?"

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Logan could heal alright, just as fast and quick as his big mean ol' brother. Girlie wasn't kidding either, Vic and that Rogue chick were goin' at it something serious in the cage. There also were a might many fellas with a few shotguns between them that didn't look like they were just for show, the bartender included.

"Now you just go and listen here, fellas. Ya got 'till the count o' three to rethink just where yer pointin' those guns. So here goes, one..."

 _Schlikt!_

"...that looked like it fucking hurt." Jubilee croaked from somewhere behind him.

Popping claws always hurt something fierce, feeling them tear through the meat of his forearm right on through his wrist, straight up into his fists until they felt like an itch he'd been meaning to scratch for a dog's age.

"Two..."

 _Schlikt!_

With one left, the men were starting to look like startled prey and for good reason too. Vic and him hadn't made it a secret that they were brothers. Hell, they were pack, and being pack meant they didn't fight alone. That meant these sorry sons of bitches were on the wrong end of a fight with the reigning King of the Cage.

And sure, while buckshot and bullets might hurt, it was nothing compared to what they'd all seen Victor do when he got good and mad. Going all in with a feral grin, Logan popped the last of his claws, all six in total.

 _Schlikt!_

"Fact o' matter is, you think ya got me and this here girlie at a slight disadvantage. What ya forgot to take into consideration is that yer standing there between me and my brother, not to mention the crazy dame he was throwing down with real serious like. So, who wants to tell me the odds of you all walkin' outta this here stand off?"

Catching the stink of fresh piss piddling down the leg of the first to figure it out, Logan didn't need anyone to tell him just who the smart money was on.

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Pinned to the mat with Victor a pleasant and warm weight against her, senses like she'd never known in her life clouded her already shit poor judgement. Knowing what these brothers could do was like telling someone the sky was blue, and that was that. Fact was there were shades and depths that couldn't be explained without seeing it first hand, without experiencing it herself.

But that meant nothing against the only thing that did, Victor healed faster than she could kill him. And while sure, she'd tuckered him out some, every time she thought he was going to be dragged below the pull of her powers, he surged back with a renewed strength that shocked her. Staring into his wild eyes, though, he was just tougher than most. He was getting on towards his limits just as sure as she was.

And then the whole damn bar exploded, erupting in screams and panic as the mass of scared off prey ran for the doors. Feeling in herself an urge to chase after them, that wasn't a thought that was hers, it was Victor's.

"Git off me before I claw out yer fucking eyes."

For a goddamn second she thought he was going to let her as to just piss her off. Then he looked back at the bar with a sniff she found herself copying. Gun oil, aggression, ozone, and something else. _Jimmy, baby brother, kin, pack._ It all assaulted her with the force of a kick to the ribs. By the time she sorted through these thoughts, Victor was already gone out the cage with a beer to wet his whistle, towering over the fleeing crowd that had gotten scared by something alright.

Left with just the chill of a cold sweat crawling up her back, Rogue found her cast off clothes and chased after him. Because in that mess of stink that made her feel like she had herself a kid brother, she sure as fuck could smell the goddamned gum Jubilee always chomped away at like a cow chewing cud.

Feeling a growl roll from her breast, it was time to high tail it. And if anyone was too dumb to get in her way, well, they were just about to find out how sharp her claws were. Whatever a feral was, it was a fearsome thing and standing three strong now, at least until the high that was Victor _Fucking_ Creed ran its course through her veins.

Growling her frustration, jobs like this were the reason she took the pay full up front. Whoever the hell Victor and his bro were, they weren't made for Xavier's school, and Chuck sure as hell knew it. So that left her wondering what the long con was, because the Professor she knew was far from innocent.

"God dammit, I shoulda known the pay was too damn high for this job. Fucking Chuck's playin' his games like always."

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	2. Chapter 2

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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Anyone too drunk or just too damn stupid to get in his way was left writhing on the floor as Victor stalked on towards the stink of gun oil that hung around Jimmy's scent. A punch to the throat, the bite of his claws, a limb wrenched from its socket, they all fell howling into the night with the fight kicked clean out them as sure as the breath was knocked from their lungs.

Many more simply fled from the beast alight in his eyes as primal instincts long since forgotten surged forth anew to remind them what it meant to be prey. With eyes eclipsed by the darkness of his intent, he advanced on the biggest, meanest son of a bitch to point a barrel at his baby brother. Hate, disgust, and sweat clung to this man like a cheap cologne, a stink Victor promised to replace by blood, piss, and panic as he let loose a feral smirk of anticipation.

Spotting a flash of yellow hiding behind Jimmy, no doubt that was the girlie he'd seen earlier on, chuckling to think again how his brother always was a sucker for a pretty face. Smelling strongly of Canada Day fireworks and bubblegum, girlie was scared alright, her scent painted with the fear of having to do something she'd regret. Any other day and he would have longed to see just what that was, but there was something else that girlie hiding behind Jimmy smelt of, and that Rogue.

Thinking of the hellcat he'd left behind brought with it a growl born from being interrupted, one from deep down in his belly. It was a growl that announced him to the men looking to hurt a couple of kids, men shit out of luck as a hefty dose of bad karma caught up to them at last. Catching the first barrel to be pointed his way, Victor obliged the rest with a show they wouldn't soon none forget, pointing it at the meat of his bicep to hold it there good and firm.

"Chain oil, sawdust, and sweat. That's what you all stink of, and that's something that paints you boys as local men who make a living logging. Being locals, I don't think I need to ask ya if you know the pain I can dish out, now do I?"

Grinning wide and wild, Victor held fast against the impotent tugging of the fella looking to find some space between him and something he thought was a might bit worse than could be found out in the wilderness of his work. Coyotes, cougars, wolves, and bears, they were all out there somewhere, but damn if this fella didn't look to have stumbled on the wrong end of ghost story told fireside with a few beers.

"Always knew there wasn't something right about you." So said the man with a revolver, spitting it out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Bub, ya don't known even the half o' it."

The full truth was something most folk were happy to forget they ever even saw, blaming it all on the booze and blood of another Friday night cage match. And anytime a nights fun asked where all his cuts were? Well, the same old lie worked each and every time, that the blood wasn't his. It was high time to show a few men the full ugly face of what they'd been hiding from, just as Jimmy had done years back that night their dear ol' _Dad_ had shown up mean, drunk, and looking to air some dirty laundry.

Spying that fella hovering his finger over the trigger each and every time he yanked at his gun, it was fish in a barrel easy to pull back and unleash a belch of fire, brimstone, and buckshot. Howling in pain, knowing it was coming didn't make it hurt any less. The only thing to take the edge off it was the enjoyment of watching men go pale at the sight of steel shot being spat back out as his flesh knit back together.

With a ringing in his ears that rang of the bell calling for another fight, Victor tore the shotgun free from the limp and trembling fingers that barely held it, busting the nose of that big, mean son of a bitch with a quick crack of wooden stock to bone. Painting the floor red with fresh blood, the deep, livid crimson spray must have woken the men from their stupor to find their knuckles white and their jaws clenched tight.

All barrels were on him, right where they belonged. A flicker of a glance back beyond the men looking for a fight saw Jimmy making ready to run for cover with his little girlie. With muscles tenses and coiled, it was a powder keg ready to blow that just needed a spark. And then came a growling not his own that had his balls tight, a growling of his hellcat prowling up plenty pissed off and looking for some poor shit to take it out on.

Answering his Rogue with a fearsome roar, the fight was on in earnest as bullets and buckshot bit at his flesh to bleed him. But that was blood he'd see paid back in pounds of flesh for every pint he spilt, his claws loosed at last as he pounced.

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It was Remy all the fuck over again, that damn good for nothing Cajun that brought nothing but trouble with him. No sooner than she'd turned her back on Victor were there fuckers with guns pointed at him. And while Remy was the sort of man to have a few trick up his sleeve to save his ass, Victor took a bullet full on just so he could spit it back out with an infuriating smile on his lips.

Instincts not her own guided her into the fray, Victor's voice a whisper in her ear that helped her ride out the rage of the beast that set her skin on fire. Howling in pain as buckshot bit deep into her flesh, Rogue lashed out with her borrowed claws to bleed the fucker responsible. Finding restraint enough to rein in the feral urges goading her on, she dropped the shithead with a punch to his throat that left him sucking air.

Felling another with a kick to the crotch to doubled him over, she finished him off with her knee drove right in the face, his cough speckled with puke and spat blood. Searching for the next to exorcise her anger against, bodies littered the floor around her and Victor, whimpering between their begging for mercy, a mercy she didn't feel any inklings for as she kicked one harshly in the stomach.

And yet, in searching for the root of her rage and anger she found a vision of the familiar that helped her step back from the edge of making anymore mistakes. Sniffing, she stalked to the bar to find Jubilee safe with the boy, Logan.

"Roguey?"

"It's me, Jubes, but fuck do I need me a goddamn drink."

No sooner had she said this than did Victor pull up a stool beside her, leaning on over for a gander at his own baby brother, and Jubilee too, looking a might bit amused himself.

"Jimmy boy, get me and the lady a couple o' beers to wet our whistle, and don't go forgetting to grab a bottle of whiskey so we might sooth our aches."

Finding herself with all too many damn reasons to tear into Victor for a rematch of the verbal kind, a beer and a shot sounded too good to go getting into that kind of sparring just then and there. Grabbing a stool of her own, Jubes finally came out from her cover to have a look at the folks playing possum out amongst the tipped chairs and toppled tables.

"Holy fuck! I don't need to call 911, do I?" Jubilee blurted out as she looked on the prone and bloodied forms.

"Girlie, I reckon someone's already called by now. But being as far back into the bush as this joint is, we got time to enjoy a drink before we hightail it." Victor reassured with a wink.

Ornery as she was feeling with as much of Victor still running through her, Logan coming back beers and a bottle of Jack Daniels for dessert was a sight for sore eyes. Purring, she didn't even taste her beer for how thirsty she was, but that first belt of whiskey? God damn, that was straight fucking heaven on her tongue as she reluctantly passed the bottle.

"First time feral s'long as you stay in knife fightin' range? You wanna tell me how that works?"

Finding the bottle back to tempt loose her lips, Rogue had another long and slow sip, enjoying her Jack like she never had in all her life. If she'd thought Victor _Fucking_ Creed up in her head was a bad trip before, with all her emotions running hot from a bestial rage that wildly bucked to be set free, the whiskey on her breath left her right and truly intoxicated. Searching for a clear thought, she found herself saved from answering that hard question by her favourite pain in the ass.

"She can't help it, not yet anyway. But if you touch her, she'll leech what makes you tick, your strength, your thoughts, heck, freak powers if ya got 'em. It fades after a while, but she can hurt someone real bad if they touch her too long, like, ten Mississippi and you'll be waking up with a bad hangover if you're lucky."

Sucking back a long and hard belt from the bottle, for all the whiskey burning in her belly she didn't feel the least bit foggy, no matter how much she wanted to drown those guilty feelings of hers in booze.

"Just about all o' what she said is spot on," Rogue admitted with a heaved and angry breath, "So colour me surprised when ya just kept getting back up for more."

Even before her sidelong look his way, she knew Victor to be smug at that from how much of him still clouded her better judgement. Chasing after a buzz with another sip, she passed the bottle back.

"Figured as much after seein' how you were using most o' my own tricks against me back in the cage. I don't need to go tellin' ya I'm a might interested to see just where this could go once we find ourselves private, do I?"

Blushing like she was fucking sixteen all over again, Rogue snatched the bottle back for a belt that damn near drained it. Fucking glad to have her shirt back on, she played innocent despite knowing her own scent betrayed her, that she was plenty interested herself in seeing just what she and Victor could get up to with a few precautions. It'd been too many damn years since she could go touching someone like that, clenching her fists tight at the fresh memory his hard, sweaty flesh beneath her palms, even as she dragged her borrowed claws down his back.

"Cops are gonna be coming at some point, so we best be getting out of here." Rogue growled, putting her mind back on the job, "Jubes, you know the routine."

"Like, major duh, Roguey! Get the disks, drives, or whatever it is this joint records its surveillance on, and then double check to make they don't got back ups or nothing, on it."

With just the boys Creed and Howlett left to keep her company as Jubilee scampered off, Rogue enjoyed herself another beer with a mind eagerly thinking towards putting miles between her and Laughlin City. What a cluster fuck...

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"Can you believe it? VHS, I mean, seriously. C'mon, here I expected, ya know, maybe a DVD drive, perhaps some shitty CD Re-writable setup at worst. But tapes? What a joke."

Ignoring girlie as she chatted away just to hear her own voice, Logan had eyes only for his big bro's truck, the one sporting slashed tires he could pick out at ten paces. Gritting his teeth, any other night and he would have been finding the faces to go with the stink of coward that still hung around the only home he'd known for many a year, that being the camper strapped down to the back.

"Who the fuck slashes tires? That's a complete dick move next level of keying a ride, which in itself is straight up, like, dudebro level of being a pussy."

Tilting his head to the side as he cocked an eyebrow in pure puzzlement, Logan found himself with a new respect for this crazy frail that had gone and done _Paf'ed_ him in the face, whatever the fuck that was other than something that hurt.

"What?" Puzzled herself, Jubilee peered back up at him looking the cute kind of clueless.

"Nothing, just thinkin' yer full o' surprises, now ain't ya?"

Smirking at her dubious, sour squint as she likely tried to figure out if she was being insulted or not, Logan ate up the few steps keeping them apart. At six feet tall, he had nearly a good foot on her that had her looking up at him with wary eyes.

"You still got the keys to a truck with a big back seat?" He asked, thinking back to their standing bet that didn't have no clear winner, not ever since the bookie had gone running off with the rest of everyone else.

"Uh, yeah? Why?"

Being bold like his big bro always taught him to be, he cupped her pert little arse in hand and hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of her denim cutoffs. Feeling her shiver at his touch, the feel of her small hands on his rose from him a throaty growl as she led him to her side pockets, inviting him to go digging for the keys he'd just asked about. Hooking the ring beneath the tips of two fingers, he traced a knuckle against the telling line of some scrap of negligee she wore beneath her tights.

"Don't got the time to change out four flats, not like we even got that many spares anyway. So we're gonna have to grab what's important and leave the rest. Maybe after we get all that done, then you can go and show me that big back seat you were boasting about..."

To hear her suck a shuddering breath got him hard like none of those older gals before ever had. Sneaking a thumb up on under her shirt, he ran circles around her navel as he got lost in the desirable depths of her suddenly dark eyes. Leaning in ever so slightly to beg her leave to do something even bolder, it was on tiptoes that she met him halfway for a kiss that ran long and deep, a kiss that left her breathless even as he found himself chewing a wad gum that darn well wasn't his.

"Bronco, that way, big back seat...yeah." Jubilee gasped with a blush and a giggle, pointing off down yonder the gravel parking lot with a shaky hand.

Smirking at the sight of his handiwork, if just a kiss left her with a case of butterflies in her belly, then he was truly looking forward to teaching her a few of the tamer things those older gals had taught him, the sort of things a big back seat was plenty cozy for.

"C'mon, lets get yer truck and get it loaded up so we can move on to warming up that back seat some."

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	3. Chapter 3

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"Just what the fuck do ya think you're doin' there, Sugah?"

Making a beeline for her Bronco, Rogue had to ask, what with seeing Victor walking with a swagger towards the driver side door.

"Gettin' us the hell outta here."

Standing firm with her emerald eyes plenty livid, it was high time to lay down the law concerning a few things, like just who got to drive her truck, that being no one other than her.

"Like hell ya are!"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Victor looked on over his shoulder with a hint of a smirk on his lips. No doubt a man used to getting his way, she'd run into his kind more often than naught, the worst of them all that damned Swamp Rat, Remy LeBeau. Having darn well learnt from that mistake in particular, she wasn't gonna go repeating it, no sir.

"Look, babe, I don't care how much o' me ya think ya got kicking around that pretty little head of yours, but ya don't know these roads like me. Gettin' out of here before the cops show up is gonna take knowing every back road, logging road, and short cut there is."Expecting a fight, she darn well wasn't counting on Victor being downright reasonable.

Gritting her teeth, not since Jubes had gone and told her that some cocksucker had gone and slashed the tires of the boys ride did she feel quite as pissed as she was now. Blowing a harsh breath, she stalked up to Victor, finding him meeting her halfway after a quick about face. Glaring up at him full of the unspoken threat of violence her eyes promised, she poked a finger at his chiselled chest, good and hard, just to make her point.

"You so much as scratch my truck, dent it, or do anything else, and I'll be taking it out of yer hide, ya hear?"

Laughter rolled from his chest, laughter she might of found intoxicating if she wasn't talking about her truck. Bought for the price of scrap, she had blood, sweat, and plenty of cash tied up in the restoration of her baby. With a snort of breath though her flared nostrils, she turned towards the passenger sided door.

"Promises, promises..." Victor called over the idling engine with a throaty chuckle.

Hauling open her door, she still had enough of him beneath her skin to hone her senses sharp and deadly, catching a blast of sweat and musk that was fuel to her own inflamed desires, all that and a quiet mewling coming from the backseat. Stamping down the ghost of Victor that still haunted her, finding herself smug with a pride that wasn't hers, she climbed up on the running boards to have a good gander at the two teens tangled up together in the slim pickings of clothes they still had on.

"Ya got to the count of three to get your hands where I can see 'em, one, two..." _...three_ , or so she counted just as Logan got his hands clear of the panties he'd been wrist up deep in.

Fuck if she hadn't said it before, but she'd say it again. Lord above, _damn teens and their hormones_.

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Peeling out, kicking up dust, dirt, and gravel, Victor tore through the gears with the rev and roar of the engine guiding his hand on the stick shift. Just like his little hellcat, the truck Rogue drove hid a mess of raw strength beneath a pretty paint job. Damn if he wasn't looking forward to having a peek under the hood just to see what made her purr, the truck and his hellcat alike, so to speak.

Cool as a night it was, he and Rogue had the windows rolled down as to welcome in the evening air, still ripe and glistening with sweat. A glance was all it took to know she still had him coursing through her veins, enjoying the whirlwind of scents, smells, and aromas that came with the fluttering breeze that stole at her hair as she lolled her head out the window.

Having a look to the rearview, he saw Jimmy boy warming up that little girlie of his, shivering as she was. Smirking, Victor left them be, turning on the radio with a mind for some country western, snorting with a chuckle at finding out Rogue and him must of shared a taste in music.

"Ya mind if I smoke?" Usually he wouldn't have bothered asking, but Rogue was proving to be a woman worth dusting off his manners for.

Shit, though, if her purring didn't get him stiff all over again. Whatever of him was left guided her hands to find to his chest, digging into his vest to find that Cuban he'd been saving to enjoy after a good fucking. Feeling her surprisingly delicate hands slip into the very pocket of his jeans that he kept his cigar cutter in, her eyes flashed to his at the very moment her fingers brushed the bulge of his rigid and hard cock, twitching at her touch once more as she explored him with her questing thumb.

Her eyes were a trap he couldn't avoid, not as she brushed her knuckle sinfully slow against his swollen flesh, teasing him for all the time it took her to pull her prize from his pants. Jerking the wheel as the tires bit deep the gravel shoulder, Victor cursed as he found back his way to the blacktop, all while his hellcat laughed, coy and playful.

"Eyes on the road, hun." Cocky little minx, she was enjoying herself, her scent ripe with mischief.

Spared the sight of her clipping off the tips of that Cuban, an innuendo that might quell and calm the stiffness in his pants, she was waiting with bated breath as he stole another look that let him enjoy the sight of her pursed lips at the tip nipped tip of her purloined cigar. Rolling it between her lips with feigned innocence, her eyes bespoke her carnal intent, cast a glittering green from the dim light of the dash.

"Ya wanna guess where I keep my lighter?" Victor asked with a throaty growl that told of his own longing to feel her light touch against him again.

Smirking with a saucy smile, Rogue looked over her shoulder to where the kids were free to play at keeping another warm, "Jubes, ya got a light?"

With eyes back on the road, he watched from the ghostly reflection caught in the windshield as girlie leaned forward from Jimmy boy's lap to hover her pressed fingers beneath the tip of that cigar, a snap of them erupting in a firecracker snap and pop. And there in the reflection of his hellcat did glow a burning red, nurtured by her every puff that lent the evening air the tantalizing aroma of tobacco.

Mischief was indeed alight in her eyes as his hellcat looked into his own of smoldering amber , offering him that cigar of his which now tasted of her sweet lips. Savoured slowly together, the miles of blacktop vanished to the rearview as ash and ember ate away at the cigar they shared.

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"Uh, FYI, my idea of camping is hoping bed bugs is all I catch from some skeezy motel bed, just saying."

Okay, sure, laying low after fleeing from a place that was about to be crawling with cops was the _modus operandi_ with Roguey, but camping? Seriously? Jubilee found herself squinting at Rogue in that way she did when trying to figure out if her girl still had anyone else running around in her head, like, perhaps an admittedly hot older brother dude.

"Ya can share a tent with me." Logan whispered in passing, which worked to nicely take the edge off the idea of camping.

"Like hell she is!" Rogue snarled, definitely still having some Vic dude in her, and probably not in the way she really wanted.

"Pot kettle, Rogue! If anyone here's gonna be going all the way, my money is on you and Vic dude. Oh, speaking of which, here. Got these while hitting up the ladies room for some pilfering of lady needs type things." Jubilee said as she skipped up to Rogue, digging into her hoodie pocket for the seriously whack kind of condoms the Laughlin City bar happened to also sell in their washrooms.

And seriously, she didn't even wanna meet the kind of guy who thought a glow in the dark dick was gonna impress a lady. Talk about major squick.

"What the fuck are you doing with condoms?!"

Putting a little serious thought into that question, Jubilee noticed an embarrassed blush tinting Rogue's cheeks red, her girl likely having realized just how loud she'd shouted that, like, within major earshot of the fittie she had the hots for.

"Well, mostly I grabbed them for you thinking ya might need some, what with knowing you've pretty much resigned yourself to never getting proper laid unless it involves some weird kind of kinky action. But, hey! I did keep a few for myself, ya know, just in case..."

Not that she was ready to go jumping Logan's bones, nope, not her. No, she was still plenty curious to see just where things would have gone in the back seat if they hadn't been interrupted. Just thinking about what Logan had been doing with his hands gave her a tickle in her tummy that had her bite down hard on her bottom lip.

Also, it was funny to notice Vic dude and Logan going about their business like nothing was going on, well, except for their smug smirks. Eh, though so far as she saw, they each had the game to back up their swagger, so their smug was straight up justified.

"God dammit, Jubes! Just git that scrawny arse of yours helpin' the boys to set up camp."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Saluting like a good little soldier, Jubilee turned a quick about face to go give Logan a hand.

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	4. Chapter 4

Marvel own the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"Holy shit! You guys got a hammock?! Oh, you so have to help me set it up!"

Busy as he was setting up a few other things, like the camp in general, Logan had a gander back over to a certain crazy dame who was a might bit busy herself, that being with some rummaging through the big ol' rucksack of camping gear Vic had accumulated over the years.

"Darlin', you wanna give me a hand here?"

Perking up like a thoughtful looking puppy, Jubilee had the hammock slung over her shoulder like some trophy. And just like any mutt with a bone he'd ever run into, he was sure she wasn't gonna go letting go of it without a fight.

"Darling?" Questioned Jubilee, looking herself pretty perplexed.

"Ya got a problem with Darlin'?" He had to call her something, and Jubilee was a mouthful he didn't have time for.

"Huh, I dunno? Say it one more time."

"Darlin'," Logan growled, his patience running plenty thin.

"Nope, that's actually pretty hot the way you say it. Please continue."

"Great. Now that we got that all settled, you wanna c'mon over here and lend a hand?"

Pursing her lips with a faux wide eyed innocence, Jubilee tilted her head to the side as to have a closer look at the mess of weather-proofed polyester that wasn't yet looking to be anything so much as a tent.

"Okay, can we just take a moment to address the elephant in the room..." Jubilee began.

"We're outside." Logan noted, earning himself one annoyed huff from his _Darlin_ '.

"Duly noted. Alright, so let me level with you here. The only thing I know about pitching tents is what the slutty girls at my prep school taught me, know what I'm saying?" Suffering her smarmy smirk, this dame could be a damn flirt when she wanted to be.

"So what yer saying is I'm better off asking ya to go and get me a beer, than I am asking ya for help?"

"See, I knew you weren't just a pretty face! I'll be back in two shakes. Oh, and FYI, like, just in case you don't know, but that's legit Southern speak for I'll be back quick." Looking right proud of herself, Jubilee scampered off with a sassy little shake of her behind.

Shaking his head as he watched her run off, Logan knew trouble when he saw it, and that girl was trouble. To bad for him, so far she was proving to be worth a bit of trouble.

"Welp, back to work..."

Because the tent sure wasn't gonna go pitch itself.

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"So, ya mind tellin' me what you and pipsqueak are doin' this far up in the arse end of Alberta?"

There was no point in pussyfooting around, not with Rogue already having proven herself a gal who put her money where her mouth was, literally. She'd walked into his life as a challenger gunning for his title, that of the King of the Cage, and Victor sure didn't think that was a fight yet over, fuck no. They'd just gone back to their corners to catch their breath before the next round.

And sure enough, she sure as heck had been waiting for him to ask about it, or so her throaty growl hinted, sounding herself plenty pissed. Leaving her to stew, he got back to getting a fire going. There was a whole cooler full of purloined perishables that needed cooking up, compliments the pipsqueak, Jujubes, or something stupid sounding like that.

"Fuck! Fine...," growled Rogue, "Some fella I just sometimes happen to work for paid me to vet you and your kid brother. And shit if I didn't know he was paying me way too much to do that, but I sure as heck couldn't turn down the money!"

Minding his own as he nursed the flickering flames of that campfire he was tending, it wasn't like he didn't know there had been a hustle going on. But now it was sounding like they'd both been played.

"Just what the fuck kind o' interest would this fella o' yours have in me and Jimmy boy?"

Rubbing her eyes with an angry hiss, Rogue went and helped herself to a belt of the Crown Royal they'd been none too slowly polishing off. To hear the satisfaction in her sigh was gasoline thrown across his own smoldering desires, those that had been denied ever since their fight had first been interrupted. But for Jimmy boy, though, he clenched down hard and rid out the want of those base urges that dared spur him on.

"Okay, so Chuck, this fella of mine, he runs a school for mutants. It's a place he made so folks like us can figure our shit out."

"Yer fella's named Chuck?" Snorting with laughter, by the pale fire in Rogue's emerald eyes he knew he was gonna pay for that.

"Charles, his name is Charles. Heck, he's some kind of Professor, for fuck sake. But I just call him Chuck."

"Alright, so how the hell does this Chuck fella even know about me and Jimmy?"

It'd been a long time since either the names Creed or Howlett had made news, and no small feat was that, so it begged the question. That, it seemed, was a question to be considered carefully as Rogue mulled over her answer. That alone earned her some points, because trust was something ya earned.

"I can't say, what with him being a man who likes to live a low profile kind of life, so lets just say that ya wouldn't wanna go playing poker with him, got me?"

Card he knew, having hustled many a game, the truth of a hand told in a multitude of ways that the best poker face couldn't keep secret. By the depths of darkened pupils, the stink of fresh sweat, or the hammering of ones heart, these were all the tells that Victor bet against, trusting the beast within to know the truth. Hell, it'd take a genuine mind reader to pull one over on him, and as his eyes rose to meet those of Rogue he saw that she'd been reading him this whole time, borrowing his beast for a hustle of her own.

"Got it in one, huh?" Cocky little minx, Rogue was herself a woman looking satisfied and smug.

"You sayin' he's the real deal, a genuine telepath?" Catching her looking a little impressed that he knew a word like that, it wasn't like they didn't get cable.

"I ain't saying nothing about that particular matter, no sir." Rogue teased, sticking to her guns about not revealing this Professor Chuck's trick.

Finally finished kindling and coaxing his fire, Victor rose with a rumbling growl rolling from his chest. Playing at being coy, she ignored him as he easily ate up the distance that stood between them, until his frame stood as a looming shadow against the flames that danced in the distance.

With whiskey heavy on her breath, she dangled the bottle, clutched as it was by the neck with her seemingly all too delicate fingers, fingers he knew all too well the sharp sting of. And yet it hadn't been her nails that had raked his flesh raw, no, instead had it been by the bite of her borrowed claws.

"So, why don't you tell me what I'm thinkin' right now?"

Hers was an answer given with the bottle pressed to his lips, still tasting heavily of hers as he drank down the last swallow of whiskey that was left. And in that moment he fell gladly into the trap that was the depths of her eyes, helpless and hungry. So, with freshly inflamed desire he stole her lips in his, fearless against the faltering of his strength at his every heartbeat.

Of all the truths they had yet so shared since they'd met, there was only one that mattered, and it was this. That she was only a feral for as long as she stayed in knife fighting range, or so she had first confessed in the ring. So if blood was the price to be paid to meet his equal, then blood he would bleed as he suffered the bite of her clenched teeth upon his lower lip, relentless in their torture as he shivered with want.

And yet, at last, her grip on his tender flesh finally became loose, shuddering as she sucked down a needy breath that bespoke of her need.

"Round two...?" Victor asked, his voice the bass rumble of thunder after a lightning strike.

To see her smile was enough, with everything else something simply to be left unsaid, and ultimately forgotten from after the point at which he stole her up in his arms.

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"You think they're gonna fuck?"

Giving a voice to the question that had been on her mind ever since she'd inadvertently walked in on Rogue and Vic dude most heavily making out, Jubilee peeked over at Logan, which was actually pretty easy to do, what with him chilling with her on the very hammock he'd so thoughtfully set up. Honestly, he was proving to be pretty fucking awesome in her books, so she was seriously glad to have snagged him a full on six pack of beers, instead of just one.

"Probably," Punctuating this blunt statement with the crack and hiss of another can of beer opened, Logan stared off into the darkness that laid beyond the warm light of their campfire.

"Umm, just to clarify, you mean, you know...proper fucking?"

As that would be a big step up for her girl who'd been forced to be celibate due to circumstances beyond her control. Like, the French didn't even a cute euphemism for it, nothing along the lines of ' _La Petite Mort_ ', because it sure wasn't gonna be no little death for the dude who tried to go all the way with Rogue. Which sucked, seriously.

"He's got the stamina." Or so Logan went stating the obvious.

Rolling her eyes, it wasn't like she hadn't been there herself. Hell, she broke them up back at the bar when shit got real! Pursing her lips in an irritated grimace, this was too much for her to think about sober, and so she took a sip of the vodka cooler she'd snagged for herself. Roguey wouldn't mind, not if it was just one. At the very least Rogue would have absolutely zero fuck to give if a certain under-aged someone woke up hungover the next morning, or so the rules clearly stated.

"Oh...well, I'm just saying that if it was me, that I wouldn't want my first time to be in the back of some truck."

"Just speaking hypothetical like," Logan began, sounding suddenly intrigued, "But if it were your first time, how would you want it?"

Oh, and look who just joined the conversation!

Alright, so, what with her lips having gone suddenly dry, Jubilee sipped at her cooler with a bit more abandon than usual. Because c'mon, that question of Logan's was about as subtle as a brick thrown through a window as far as messages went. Feeling warm in places she couldn't blame on the booze, Jubilee rocked back and forth in the hammock, set up as it was pretty low to the ground, low enough that her and Logan could kick back in it like it was come kinda sofa or something.

"Uh, for starters, I gotta say I sure wouldn't want it to be somewhere anyone could go interrupting me and whoever the fuck the lucky dude was..." Not like, say, in the back of some truck that she'd pretty much been calling home as of late.

Sipping her cooler while waiting to see if Logan had anything to add, a sidelong look his way saw him just sitting there staring off out at the woods. Practically puckering her lips with a disappointed moue, Jubilee kicked up some dirt as she gave the hammock a good and hard rock to and fro. If it hadn't been for the honky-tonk playing loudly from the bronco, then it would have been way too quiet for her liking.

"So yer sayin' something like a motel?"

Startled by the sheer suddenness of Logan's inquiry after him being all quiet like, apparently he'd been giving it some real thought.

"Uh, ew?" Okay, so, straight to spelling out her disgust with a capital G for gross, Jubilee glared at Logan as if trying to figure out what was wrong with the dude, "How about no to a motel? It's gotta at least be a real deal hotel, you know, with room service? A view would also be nice..."

"A view?" With laughter tugging at his lips, Logan looked on her with the flames of the campfire alight in his gun metal grey eyes.

Somehow, and without even noticing it, he'd rolled to his side, the comfortable space between them now goodly long and gone. Caught in his gaze, Jubilee felt her heart racing even as she struggled to find her breath. Sucking in the cool evening air with a nervous hiccup, this wasn't how she acted around boys, hell no! Except, the annoying thought came, that Logan was way more, well, for lack of a better word, Alphathan the usual punks who chatted her up looking for her digits.

"A view?" Jubilee parroted, even as her mind reeled to catch up.

Asked again with a curious quirk of his eyebrow, that was wholly and totally sexy, all her fantasies came crashing down upon her in that moment.

"It's dark, except for the candles, like, a lot of candles. The blinds are open, and the view? It's the city at night, sparkling and out of reach, and no one can see us..." _Whoever the fuck the lucky dude was_ , so came the echo of her own voice from before.

Breathless to say anymore, having so betrayed herself, what with how easy it was to envision Logan laying next to her on the king sized bed of some seriously slick suite, it was a hitched breath she found at his touch, suffering with shivers the torture of his rough thumb trailing down her cheek. The warmth of his breath upon her neck begged her his leave to do as he pleased, even as his nose nuzzled her so very ticklish ear.

Parting her lips at last with a gasp, from her limp fingers fell that cooler of hers, only half enjoyed. Made to feel every bit as petite as a certain Cajun fella she knew used to tease her about, Jubilee surrendered at last. Without a doubt there would be no one to interrupt her and Logan this time around, and how nice was that, what with the hammock being plenty more comfortable than the back seat of some truck she'd been calling home...

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